


Angels ever Bright and Fair

by wyrmy



Series: Untitled Human AU [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has ADHD (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Semi-Verbal, Traumatic Memory Loss, as usual, can be read as asexual, this ones very heavy sorry, whatever it is its gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27964607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmy/pseuds/wyrmy
Summary: Aziraphale has a highly unpleasant reunion with a family member he hasn't seen in years.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Uriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Untitled Human AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079183
Comments: 9
Kudos: 91





	Angels ever Bright and Fair

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fairly heavy one, but I have avoided describing anything traumatic in any detail. Really it's about the conflicted feelings often have about their families when they grew up in an abusive environment. It's part of an AU that i've plotted out in my head but will probably never write because it would be novel-length. This was my favorite scene anyway.  
> The title is from an aria in Handel's oratorio Theodora.

Crowley had felt a certain apprehension about this date due to the text which Aziraphale had sent him around noon saying that he was “not quite up to snuff” but that if Crowley still wanted to come round he was welcome to. Aziraphale, master of understatement that he was, was liable to be mid-breakdown and self-describe as “not up to snuff”, and so Crowley was frankly a little concerned. But when Aziraphale opened the door to his flat, he gave Crowley a smile that was only a slightly wooden, took the proffered flowers, and unexpectedly gave Crowley a hug. He stepped back, fishing in his pocket for his phone and poking at the screen. In recent weeks, Crowley had learned not to let his surprise show at anything Aziraphale did, so he waited patiently for probably about a minute while Aziraphale fussed with the phone. An electronic voice emerged from it. 

_I’m awfully tired today dear, I’m not up to speaking tonight. Is that alright?_

“No problem, angel.” 

_I’ll just make us dinner then. It’s nice to see you._

It was a bit surreal, watching Aziraphale silently put the flowers in water, cooing over them in a distinctly non-verbal (and likely involuntary) way, instead of listening to his normal chatter. Aziraphale bent then to clatter the pans in the cupboard about, the phone on the counter chirping thanks for the flowers. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Crowley was leaning against the wall and he hoped that Aziraphale couldn’t tell he felt awkward. Aziraphale had to stop his clattering to grab his phone and type, which made for an unusually sedate conversation. Crowley would have to avoid saying the wrong thing. 

_No that’s quite alright. You can just sit down somewhere and look gorgeous_ , said the phone. 

“Really, I mean it. I can cook for you.” 

_I like cooking_ , said the phone. And Aziraphale beamed at him and made a little humming noise, so that was alright. 

“Do you mind if I talk?” said Crowley and Aziraphale made a little burbling noise and nodded, or at least waved his head around in a careless approximation of a nod, so Crowley started ranting about his day. Aziraphale hummed and cooed to himself as he talked, either in agreement, or as a way of interacting with the food, though it didn’t matter which, in Crowley’s opinion. At length the dinner was ready and plated and the pair of them enjoyed an abnormally silent meal, though Aziraphale’s normal exclamations of enjoyment were, if anything, more pronounced. There was something liberating in just saying things, without the expectation of response or rejoinder, which Crowley found oddly enjoyable. It was towards the end of the meal however that Aziraphale put down his knife and fork and said, out loud: 

“I saw my sister today.” Crowley was temporarily struck dumb. 

“Uh, wow,” he said. “That sounds like a lot.” 

_It is_ , said the phone. 

“You haven’t seen any of your family in twenty years, have you?” 

_Twenty-five_.

*

Aziraphale had been in his backroom, engaged in a very tricky bit of restoration when the bell on his shop door had rung, so he hadn’t gone to see who it was. Customers sometimes left when they realized they weren’t going to be catered to. 

“Hello?” the customer had said, and the familiarity of the voice had made Aziraphale’s blood run cold. Surely not, he’d thought to himself. He’d carefully put away his various tools and poked his head around the doorframe. The woman’s back was turned to him, so he couldn’t be sure… 

“Hello,” he ventured. 

She turned and he felt his knees buckle. Oh no oh no oh no. 

“Aziraphale!” she cried. “Is it really you?” 

“Uriel,” he said. “What a surprise.” 

She crossed the room towards him, arms open. He raised his hands defensively. 

“Please,” he said, “won’t you have some tea?” he fled up the stairs to his flat before she could hug him. Uriel, however, followed. 

He bustled about the kitchen, filling the kettle, getting out the teabags, and so on. His hands were shaking. 

“Alex, hey, calm down, it’s okay, it’s only me,” she said. 

“That’s not my name anymore.” 

“You still go by Aziraphale?” 

“I changed my legal name.” 

“So you own this shop? You’re ‘Fell’?” 

Aziraphale didn’t want to answer. He hummed instead. 

“You’re still doing that,” said Uriel. She didn’t sound angry, just mildly surprised. 

Aziraphale winced, but there was nothing left to do, so he had to turn and face her. He leant against the counter as much as he could, but she was still too close. 

“What, um, is the reason for your visit?” he said. 

“I wanted to apologize for the way things were when we were kids," she said. "I didn’t really know at the time how upsetting all of that must have been to you. We were all kind of encouraged to- you know they told us it was for your own good, and I just wanted you to be okay, but obviously that doesn’t make it alright, the way we treated you.” 

“No it doesn’t.” 

“So, I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you for apologizing.” Aziraphale gave her a cup of tea and tried not to look disappointed when Uriel sat down at his kitchen table. He reluctantly followed suit. 

“It’s been a long time,” said Uriel. “So how have you been?” 

“I’ve been fine. I own a bookshop, now.” Aziraphale somehow wished there was something more substantial than a table between them. 

“I knew you were going to do something that had to do with reading somehow. You were so obsessed with books as a kid,” said Uriel. It was hard to focus on her voice. 

“How are you?” he replied at length. 

“I’ve been really well. I’m married. I'm a civil servant.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t respond to that. He sipped his tea. 

“So, do you have a husband? A partner?” 

Aziraphale’s fear must have shown on his face because she instantly clarified. 

“No, it’s okay, Al- Aziraphale. I’m not homophobic. Actually I was really disappointed in how our parents handled that whole situation. I’d be pleased if you had a partner.” 

“I am, as a matter of fact, seeing someone. But it’s not really…. We don’t live together. I’m not sure I can live with another person, anymore.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Yes, well.” He really had nothing else to say. 

Then he thought of something. 

“How did you find me?” 

“Oh, I’ve been looking in bookshops for years. And libraries. It’s sort of a habit, by now. I always hoped that you had a job you were happy with, that you got to do a lot of reading.” 

“So you just looked in, on the off chance?” Aziraphale had to put down his tea. He was feeling faintly sick. 

“You’re my baby brother. I never gave up hope that you were out there somewhere, being successful.” Uriel smiled and tried to touch his hand. He pulled it out of reach. 

“I- are you going to tell the rest of your family where I am?” 

“Not unless you want me to. I can understand you not wanting to have anything to do with our parents, or with Sandy.” 

“Please don’t tell them. If I’m being totally honest, I try not to think about any of y- of them anymore. I’d like to be left alone.” 

“Do you want to know how they’re all doing now?” 

“I’d prefer not to. The less I have to think about them, the better.” 

“I respect that,” said Uriel. 

There was a long silence. Aziraphale looked at the table. If he focussed his eyes correctly, Uriel faded into the background of his field of vision and he could pretend she wasn’t there. It was an old trick, one that he hadn’t used in years. 

“I had better get going,” she said, and didn’t stand up. Aziraphale had to get up before she would, but she then went with him to the door. She turned to face him. 

“The, uh, blonde looks good. Suits you.” 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale contemplated making the joke he had made to Crowley, that he bleached his hair because blondes have more fun, and he knew she would appreciate it. He had always been criticized as a child for lacking a sense of humour. But he no longer felt a need to impress her. 

“Can I hug you goodbye?” she asked. 

“No, thank you. I still don’t like that very much.” 

She nodded. 

“Bye, Aziraphale,” she said. 

“Goodbye, Uriel.” 

When she was gone, he had to lean against the door until his heart slowed down. 

*

“Gosh,” said Crowley. “Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” Aziraphale said out loud in a flat voice. “She said she’d been looking for me for years. To apologize. Looking in all the bookshops. She wanted to catch up. She has a husband. She’s a civil servant. She wanted to know what I was doing.” 

“Yeah?” prompted Crowley, when he stopped.

 _Sometimes I am frightened by how much anger I feel towards my family_ , the phone said. 

_She, in particular, was not a favorite child. I am convinced that she participated in everything as a way to keep herself safe. But I can’t forgive her. I hate her so much that I feel like I am going to combust._ He kept his eyes trained on his phone as he typed, worrying at his lip with his teeth. 

_Or go utterly mad. I don’t even remember most of my childhood, I just remember little pieces of it. It’s all so horrible sometimes I convince myself I made it all up. Maybe I did. Maybe I hate her for no reason at all._ He raised a hand and rubbed his face. _I’m glad you’re here_ , said the phone. 

“Are you going to see her again?” Aziraphale shook his head. 

“I think if I had spent one more minute in her company this afternoon I would have started yelling at her that she ruined my life, or something like that.” He laughed, without humour. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” said Crowley. When Aziraphale’s phone said _yes_ , he reached across the table and took his hand. “I love you,” he said. “I want to support you with all this. Is there anything you’d like me to do?” 

_I don’t want to think about it_ , typed Aziraphale one-handed. 

“I can think of a way to achieve that,” said Crowley.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome. I am working on like 10 wips at the moment, so if you liked this, keep an eye out!


End file.
